Author's Note: Okay, I'm debating on whether to continue "Another Year..." or not. The lack of reviews has made me curious whether anybody is even reading my work. Is my first attempt at Fan Fiction a failure? And yes, I am "fishing" for reviews, but I want to know if my time and hard work are being wasted.

P.S. Another BIG thank you to Jedi Master Arie Skywalker for the encouragement. You rock!


Chapter Nine

Joanne heaved a sigh as she eyed the nearby wall clock anxiously. She was grateful this case was finally over; perhaps now she could go home and get some rest. All she had to do was escape her ecstatic client: an emotional single mother who would now receive child support, all thanks to Joanne. The reputable lawyer gave her client a slight embrace and a reassuring smile, then took her briefcase and exited the courtroom. She truly loved her job, despite the fact that being a lawyer was exhausting. It had been a long time since she'd had any real enjoyment in life. Joanne wondered silently if she was capable of having fun anymore at all.

She hurried toward the building exit, attempting to avoid the mild clamor coming from a nearby doorway: another courtroom in the building. Instead she was stopped in her tracks by the face of an old acquaintance. Benjamin Coffin, III.

"Shit!" Joanne whispered. She held her briefcase alongside her face as she walked even faster, praying that Benny wouldn't spot her.

"Joanne?" Benny's voice rang out loudly. He untied the silk necktie he was wearing, and slipped it from his neck as he approached her. "What are you doing here?"

What a stupid question, Joanne thought to herself. He knows I'm a lawyer. "I had court today," she replied, coolly. "The question is: what are you doing here?"

"Uh, business stuff." Benny gave his own lawyer a brief wave, and followed Joanne out into the bright sunlight. "But enough about me. How is everyone? I heard Mimi was in the hospital."

"She's home now," Joanne told him solemnly. "Everyone else is okay, I suppose. I haven't been to the loft since New Year's." She hoped that Benny would let it rest, but he was insistent.

"Maureen doing all right?"

"I wouldn't know." Joanne made an escape attempt, but Benny continued to trail her.

"You're broken up?"

"Maureen is a selfish, childish, drama queen. We share no common goals and have no common interests. We decided it was time to acknowledge that." Joanne sounded sensible and prudent, although her eyes began to well with tears. She sniffed nobly then resolved to act her age. Both she and Maureen were better off apart. Any idiot could see that. There would be others with whom Joanne could share her love. Others who desired what she desired out of life.

"Well I'm sorry to hear it." Benny's voice broke through Joanne's deep thoughts.

"It's no big deal, really," Joanne lied. "Listen, Benny, I have an appointment," she lied again, "I have to go." She turned and hustled down the busy block, eager to get home and have a stiff drink and a good cry.

"Joanne!" Benny's voice called from behind. He finally caught up with her and stopped her again. "I'd really like to catch up. Would you like to…have a drink with me?"

She studied his face for a moment, unsure where this was going. She was a lesbian, and Benny knew it. No, it isn't a date, she thought fixedly. But why the sudden interest in me? For a moment, Joanne considered simply calling him a bastard and walking away. But she was intrigued to learn what Benny wanted from her, so she agreed to accompany him to a nearby bar.

The bar was simple and sophisticated. A nice place for a respectable lawyer to have a drink, Joanne decided. She chose a small table near the wall and took a seat. Benny sat across from her, smiling chivalrously. Neither of them spoke until their drinks arrived.

"So…" Joanne prompted him, "what's going on?"

"Well," Benny began after sipping his scotch, "I've decided to try to make amends."

"Amends?" Joanne glanced at him, puzzled at his bluntness. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to ask forgiveness from Mark and Roger. I know they're pissed at me for the way I treated them, and I guess I deserved to be hated…"

Joanne rolled her eyes and nodded frantically.

"It was wrong of me to sacrifice our friendship the way I did. I hope they'll be able to forgive me."

"Unfortunately, Benny, it won't be that simple," Joanne advised. "Do you honestly think that Roger will forgive you after what happened with Mimi?"

"Well, I'd like to try." Benny's face was somber. "It's just that…I've examined my life and realized that I have no friends. I've been successful on the job and have many close clients, but no one to confide in outside the workplace. I don't like who I've become, Joanne." He looked as if he might cry any second.

Joanne bit her bottom lip and tried to suppress the feelings of pity that welled up inside her. She was against everything that Benny had done over the past year. For all she knew, this newfound regret could just be an act. Benny was a weasel; Joanne refused to see him as a human being after the way he'd treated her friends. "Well you have your wife," she halfheartedly consoled. "I'm sure she's been a great deal of comfort to you."

Benny looked up at her meekly. "Actually, Allison and I have divorced. That's why I was at the courthouse today. It became official just today. She just couldn't get over my relationship with Mimi. I guess I can't blame her. That one was my fault, too." He hung his head remorsefully.

Joanne blinked hard. It appeared that he was genuinely ashamed of his actions. Reluctantly, she reached across the table and rested her hand on top of his. "It's okay, Benny," she consoled. "Everything's going to be okay."


Mimi hummed as she drummed her fingers lightly on the kitchen counter. She had never been especially domestic, but she was determined to cook something special for Roger. He had contacted two members of his old band, and they had decided to get together and relive some old times with a jam session at the loft. Roger was thrilled to see his old band mates and hoped that the reunion would be permanent; he needed his music to be heard again. Things were definitely looking up for Roger, so Mimi wanted to celebrate. Maybe this was their chance to truly be happy together.

Mimi had recruited Collins' help, sending him to the Food Emporium for some groceries and some candles. Collins, very evidently, knew the code to Angel's honorarium at the nearby ATM and had also promised her the best champagne he could find for after dinner…to celebrate the band's reunion. Mimi had also enlisted her mother's assistance by calling to ask for her recipe for enchiladas. Mimi's mouth watered as she remembered the taste of the authentic Mexican dish; her most favorite. She smiled, envisioning Roger's expression when he tasted her masterpiece. This would be an incredible night.


Roger grinned contentedly to himself. He wondered what Mimi was up to down there. Collins was in on the plan; of that he was certain. Roger could hardly contain his excitement, which was a strange feeling for him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so eager for anything. He tuned his guitar for the third time, hoping that Chris and James would show up soon.

He tried to remember the last time he had seen them. The funeral, he thought. April's funeral. Roger shivered at the now-distant memory. He had gone through those days in a fog, unsure whether to grieve for April or for himself. He remembered the drive home with Mark after the funeral. He had cursed Mark severely for advising him to join an AIDS support group. Mark had seemed unfazed by the abuse; he swore that Roger's welfare was his main concern. And the usually anal Mark had been surprisingly unruffled by Roger's intense withdrawals a few weeks later. Mark had stood beside him when his rocker friends abandoned him. Despite their occasional personality clashes, Roger decided, Mark Cohen was certainly his best friend.

"Hey Rog," Mark's voice called from within his bedroom. "Are the guys here yet?"

"No," Roger replied. He plucked his guitar strings softly.

Mark emerged from the bedroom, his eyes weak and tired-looking. He had obviously been editing films. He padded into the makeshift kitchen and began making himself a cup of tea. "Want some?"

"Nah." Roger was too keyed up to drink tea. "You think Chris and James have changed any?"

"Well, I hope so…for your sake," Mark replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Roger asked, offended.

"Don't you hope they've changed? You're certainly not who you were two years ago."

Roger stared down at the guitar for a moment. Mark was right. He silently wondered if his old band mates were still up to their old tricks: womanizing, getting drunk and getting high. Roger had once seen them as the paragon of the rock 'n' roll lifestyle. What would he do if they asked him to get high with them again?

A knock on the door startled him. He practically leapt from his seat on the couch. Mark snickered at his friend's enthusiasm. Roger slid the metal door open hastily, revealing two slender male figures, both holding guitars. Chris and James had arrived…